in a mysterious lake. I would say it’s enough to stir the imagination of the most indifferent man.”
Victor suddenly opened his clenched fist. “This puzzles me.” A gold ring lay in the palm of his hand. Felix picked it up to examine it; the centrepiece was not a jewel, it was a prancing horse perfect in every detail.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. It was made by a master.”
“A genius goldsmith by any standard,” said Victor, “but it’s not Egyptian – it belongs to another time and another place, I’m sure of that – and yet it’s from the same source.”
“It’s fantastic.”
“It’s more than that – watch.” Victor held the ring firmly, unclipped a cleverly disguised catch, and the gold horse detached to reveal the ram-horned sign of Zeus-Ammon on the top of the ring.
“What does it mean?”
“We’ll go into that when Etienne arrives, but if it means what I think it does, we better get there first.”
“I need no more convincing, just tell me when we leave.”
“Let’s say in two weeks. Reinhardt is probably in Dresden right now. He will call in tomorrow on his way to Vienna. Then Etienne should arrive in a few days; I will contact you when he does.” He put the ring in the safe and closed it, then reached for the whisky.
“Not for me. Tonight, I’m sure to dream about Egypt.” Felix went to get his coat. Victor walked with him to the door; his fingers curled around the door handle and he held it closed as he turned to Felix. “It’s a load off my mind that you’re coming and I have one request to ask of you: don’t mention a word of this to anyone—” he paused as if to add something, but left it at that. He opened the door, and his eyes fixed on Felix with an intense stare. “Not to anyone; there is danger enough.” Then his serious expression transformed to his usual smile. “Felix, I’m glad you came, you’ve lightened my load.” He slapped Felix affectionately on the shoulder as he walked away.
“Trust me,” Felix said with a farewell wave as he reached the stairs. He seemed immune to the cold night air as he made his way to the embankment, sidestepping puddles here and there where the pavement was uneven. “Yes,” he hissed through his teeth as he thought to himself, and chuckled, “I lightened his load and walked away a little heavier.”
It was then that he had a terrible foreboding. He gave an involuntary shudder and turned around quickly, but there was no one there.
. 2 .
SEVERAL DAYS PASSED and Felix had heard nothing from his uncle. His mind was abuzz with thoughts of Egypt and he wanted to buy a book about it. He dressed and left his modest apartment early in the morning.
The street was frozen in its stillness beneath a leaden sky; it was snowing and the dry flakes swirled, falling to the pavement and gathering around walls and doorways in small heaps. The range at his local bookshop was limited, so he decided to go to the city where the bookstores would offer a larger selection. It could wait till later in the day, and then perhaps he’d visit Victor.
On his way back he stopped for a coffee. In a cosy corner of the café he eased himself into a chair and opened a newspaper. Instantly his eyes were drawn to a lengthy article on Carnarvon and Carter.
Not half an hour had passed since his return to the apartment, when there was a sharp knock on the door. It was what he was waiting for. Throwing it wide open he froze and then took a pace back. As one, the two police officers stepped into the room, forcing him to take several more paces back.
“Are you Felix Finer?” asked one while the other looked the room over, and then turned his attention back to him as he replied, “Yes.”
“Then I have the unpleasant duty to inform you of your uncle’s death. He was shot last night. We believe you may be able to assist us.”
Felix shook his head and took another faltering step backward as a stealthy chill penetrated his body. It couldn’t be. His mind reeled from the shock. He could not compose himself to ask even one question. One of the officers pulled up a chair. “Please sit down.”
“Danger. Not a word to anyone.” They were his last words, a dire warning that seemed so casual that night. Who could have perpetrated such a senseless act, robbing Felix of the person he loved and with whom he was going to share a wonderful adventure? Tears streamed down his cheeks as he remembered the good times and the laughter they shared. “How did this happen? Who did this?”
“Mr. Finer, we need your help to arrest the person responsible. We don’t expect it to be complicated.”
Choking with grief, Felix checked his emotion. That final warning of danger was flashing in his mind; he could trust no one. The first shock, which made his blood run cold, now turned to anger. He was angry at his loss and angry at his helplessness. He wished Etienne would arrive soon. Everything around him was a blur; he didn’t hear the question put to him. One of the officers shook him by the shoulder. “Are you listening?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll help in any way.” He stood up suddenly. “I’ll come with you.”
Not a word was spoken during the short drive to police headquarters as the car jolted along the cobblestone streets. A resolution became clear in Felix’s mind: If it is to be a fight to death, then it shall be on my terms.
At headquarters Felix was ushered into a dingy office and left alone for a short time. Reveal nothing, take every advantage was his new mantra. Time passed slowly while he sat there, adding to his frustration and anger.
Suddenly a bespectacled and officious person entered the room. “Felix Finer, I am Inspector Novak,” he introduced himself without waiting for any acknowledgement. “This is Lieutenant Benzel.” He threw a look over his shoulder at the person standing in the doorway behind him. Both of them placed their folders on the desk as they sat down. Novak regarded Felix over his glasses.
“We understand your uncle was in the oriental antiquities trade.”
“Yes, he was.”
“It appears this crime is related to his business. Do you know any of his colleagues?”
“Until the other day I had not seen my uncle in eight years. He told me he was expecting a visitor: Curt Reinhardt, a man I’ve never met. I was told he’s also a dealer in antiquities and a fierce rival. I suspect he may be involved.”
“He was expecting him, you say.” Novak smiled faintly. “A murderer does not announce his arrival in advance.”
“Perhaps Reinhardt didn’t plan to murder my uncle.”
“Well, someone came with a gun and had every intention to fire it.” Novak turned to the lieutenant, who was absently tapping his pencil on the desktop: “Do you have to?”
“Why don’t you arrest Reinhardt? I’m sure he can tell you more than I can.”
“Arrest a German citizen in Austria? No. We have no jurisdiction in Vienna since the borders of Europe were redrawn.”
“Am I to understand he’s not a suspect?”
“I
